Family
by illrain666
Summary: It's family that makes you who you are.


Family

She was beautiful.

His eyes followed her every movement as she laughed happily while dancing with her new husband. He had to admit that they made a very attractive couple. And that they seemed to be very much in love. They now stopped in front of him and greeted him with smiles. "Here you go, John," the groom said magnanimously. "One last dance with my lovely wife before we go on our honeymoon." She looked at him expectantly, so he had no choice but to take her hand and lead her out to the dancefloor. The music changed then, became a slow romantic melody, and she pressed herself closer to him.

"Wipe that scowl off your face," Mystique ordered coldly, "or I will do it for you."

Pyro sighed in annoyance. "This is fucking stupid," he told her, "and I hate this."

"You don't have a choice. We're here on a job, and you are not going to mess this up in any way. As long as we're around these people, you act like a good little boy."

"Yes, sir," he said sarcastically.

She glared at him. Her warm brown eyes briefly shifted to a cool yellow before she got control of her mutation. "If we weren't in front of company right now, I swear -"

"You'll beat me up?" he finished for her, then added in a very scornful tone, "_Mom_?"

"God!" She growled through clenched teeth. "If there had been any other member of the Brotherhood who could have backed me up on this mission, I wouldn't have to put up with your shit!"

"You don't have a choice!" he retorted. "Whose brilliant idea was it to claim that she had a teenaged son?"

"Fine! So I brought this on myself! Now shut up and kiss me!"

"What?!" He was startled.

"They're looking at us," she said. "Kiss me on the forehead then hug me. We'll make them think we're having a mother and son moment here."

Pyro did as he was instructed, a bit awkwardly since he was used to sparring with Mystique, not showing her affection. She looked at him and smiled. Her eyes suddenly glistened with tears. She then surprised him completely by throwing her arms around him and breaking out into sobs.

"Jesus Christ," he swore, letting her embrace him tightly and patting her on the back as if he was comforting her. "You should have been an actress, you bitch."

"Fuck you very much," she murmured in between her sniffles.

"Raven?" Her husband, Clayton Howell, appeared at their side. "Honey, are you okay?"

She nodded, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. "Yes. I'm fine. There's something that John wants to say to you."

Pyro shot her a venomous look, and she covered her mouth with the handkerchief to hide her smile at his sudden discomfiture.

"What is it, John?"

"Well, uhm," he cleared his throat, thinking fast, "I want to say thank you, sir. I've never seen my mother so happy before. Out of all the men she dated, most of them abusive losers, you turned out to be a pretty good guy."

It was Mystique's turn to look venomous. Clayton didn't seem sure of how to react to that statement at first, then he decided to settle on shaking Pyro's hand. "You're welcome, son," he replied. "And you have my promise that I am going to take good care of your mom. And you, too, of course. We're family now."

He forced himself to smile. "Yeah. Family."

"Where's Patricia?" Clayton wondered, looking around the room. "Have you seen her?"

"She's over there, darling," Mystique pointed. "Patricia! Come here, honey!"

Patricia Howell, Clayton's young daughter, walked over to them. She smiled shyly at Pyro then kissed her new stepmother on the cheek. "Congratulations again," she said. "You too, Dad. I'm really happy for you both."

"Thank you, sweetheart." Her father gave her a hug. "Now come on. I want a picture of the four of us together before we leave." He called for the photographer who took about a hundred pictures of them, in Pyro's irritated opinion, then the newlyweds started bidding goodbye to their guests.

"We'll be gone for a week," Clayton told Pyro and Patricia. "The cleaning lady will come in every other day so don't make too much of a mess. John, I'd like you to do me a huge favor and look after Patricia."

"Dad!" She blushed.

"Honey, you know I trust you completely. Your friends, though – not all that trustworthy," he teased. "Especially that Dawna."

"I'm telling her you said that!" she threatened.

Clayton laughed and hugged her again. Pyro noticed that he did that a lot. "All right. We'll be off now. The two of you be good."

Mystique hugged Pyro, too, and ruffled his hair. "Behave yourself." Her tone was light but the look in her eyes promised murder should he disobey her.

"Have fun, Mom."

Then he was left alone with his stepsister.

"Looks like it's just you and me," she said with an uncertain smile. He seemed to make her nervous.

He frowned at her. "Yeah. Just you and me." He thought she reminded him a little bit of someone, some small shy girl back in Xavier's Institute. He shrugged it off. Anyway, it wasn't important. What was important was making it through the week without blowing his cover, or Mystique's.

He hoped that the blue bitch would have a really rotten honeymoon.

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Pyro was reading in bed when the door burst open and a laughing drunken girl came in.

"Hey," she said. "I thought I'd find you here. I'm Dawna, Patricia's friend."

He regarded her coolly. "I know."

"What are you doing in here?" She stumbled, giggled, then collapsed onto the bed. "Come on downstairs. Join the party."

"No, thanks." He turned back to his book.

"Pat was right about you," she observed. "You're weird. Weird, but very cute."

He didn't know whether to be amused or irritated when she gave him what she must have thought was a seductive smile then straddled him. She kissed him, and her mouth tasted of beer and tequila. She smelled nice, though, and she felt soft and warm. Since the only girl he dreamed of touching could kill him with her skin, he figured that he might as well take whatever he could get, even if it was from somebody else.

He was just unfastening her bra when he heard a scream. It was cut off abruptly. "What was that?"

"It was nothing," she murmured, trying to kiss him again.

"Evan , stop!" The voice was almost drowned out by the loud music coming from downstairs but Pyro recognized it as Patricia's.

"What the hell is going on?" Forgetting all about the girl he was with, he made his way to Patricia's room. He thought that the scream sounded like it came from there. "Patricia?" he called out.

"John, help me!" she screamed, then he heard a male voice growl angrily, "Shut up, you little bitch!"

Pyro didn't hesitate. He forced the door open and saw Patricia being held down in bed by a guy who looked unmistakably like a jock. Jock guy then glared at him threateningly. "You stay out of this, pal!" he warned Pyro.

"Get off her!" he commanded.

"Fuck off!"

His first instinct was to reach for his lighter and burn the guy's face off, then he remembered Mystique's graphic description of what she would do to him if he ever fucked up this job. So he charged instead.

The other guy was bigger, but Pyro was quicker and meaner. Using a neat little move that Mystique had taught him, he broke the guy's nose. Then a twist, and the guy's left arm gave a sickening crack and was broken as well. Patricia was screaming and sobbing hysterically all this time. Once she saw that her attacker was down, she ran towards Pyro and hugged him tightly.

"John! I thought he was – he was gonna -"

He pushed her away. "Stay here," he said brusquely. He dragged her would-be rapist down the stairs. The guy was babbling in so much pain that he didn't even try to struggle. Their arrival at the party caused an immediate silence.

He looked at all the kids gathered there, and he hated them all. He had never wanted to kill so badly. "Everyone get out." There must have been something in his eyes, perhaps his murderous fury, because no one thought to argue with him about that. They all filed out, the jock supported by his friends. When he went back upstairs to check on Patricia, he saw Dawna was with her.

"Leave," he ordered.

Dawna looked at him like he was mad. "She's been hurt. We should take her to the hospital."

"She'll be fine, just a few bruises. We take her to the hospital, her father finds out, and what do you think he'll do when he learns that you brought that guy here?"

"I -"

"Leave," he repeated. "And make sure that asshole doesn't tell anyone the truth."

She left. Pyro stared at Patricia coldly. "I'll get you some ice," he said.

"John?" She now looked more frightened than ever. Frightened of him.

"I don't wanna hear it," he told her. "No explanations, no excuses. You were fucking stupid enough to trust those people so you got hurt. Learn the goddamn lesson already."

"Why are you being so mean?" she whispered. She looked very much like a broken little girl just then.

In spite of himself, Pyro felt a twinge of pity for her. He stamped out the feeling as best he could.

"I'll be back with the ice." He spoke more softly this time. Then he pretended not to hear when she started to cry again.

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Mystique came back from her honeymoon looking relaxed and tanned. "How's my boy?" She greeted Pyro with an airy kiss then pinched his cheeks playfully. Her husband looked at the two of them with amused affection.

"Fine, Mom," he said, submitting himself to her motherly display. As soon as Clayton's attention was turned elsewhere, he pushed her away in annoyance.

"The house looks fine," Clayton observed. "I was a bit worried that Pat's friends would come over and wreck the place with one of their crazy parties."

"Oh, no parties," Pyro assured him quickly. Mystique suddenly looked suspicious.

"Where's Patricia?" she asked.

"Hey." She appeared just then. She gave Mystique a hug then bestowed the same gesture on her father. She clung a bit longer than normal to Clayton, though. "I'm so glad you're home."

"What's this?" Her father noticed the sudden glisten of tears in her eyes. "Oh, honey! Did you really miss us all that much?"

"Yes, I did." She laughed it off so he wouldn't worry. "I'm just really, really glad you're home."

"I'm glad, too." He smiled at her. "So, how did you and John get along?"

"Oh, he's -," she glanced at Pyro's impassive face, "He took care of me."

"Good to hear it."

"Okay. What happened while we were gone?" Mystique demanded when she went to see Pyro in his room later that night.

"Just a bit of trouble," he admitted reluctantly. "I took care of it."

"What sort of trouble?" she persisted.

"Her friends had a party in the house. Her boyfriend tried to rape her."

"What? And how did you take care of this?" she wanted to know.

"I busted him up. Went to see him later at the hospital and made sure he wouldn't talk."

"How sure are you that he won't talk? If he goes to the police -"

"He won't." Pyro sounded very positive of that. "He told his parents he got mugged."

Slowly, she nodded. "All right. I'll trust that you did take care of it. I'm going to be very busy for the next few days so I expect you to watch both our backs."

"What will you be doing for the next few days? And what does this family have that's so important to the Brotherhood that we have to go to all this trouble?" She had never really told him what they were after on this job.

"Oh, they're rich," she said. "With a ton of money they'll be donating to the Brotherhood. Unknowingly, of course."

"So, basically, we're here to rob them blind?"

"I'm not that greedy. I'll leave them a few millions."

"Millions?" he was doubtful. "Sure, they're well-off, but millions? They're not what I thought millionaires would be like."

"Definitely millions," she told him. "Remember when I worked at that bank a while back? I pulled up Clayton's account from their database, and he's loaded. Apparently, he's some kind of genius at investments and the stock market. And, he does all of that from his computers at home."

"I get it," he nodded. "You're gonna hack into his files."

"He's set it up with the bank so that his account can only be accessed for fund transfers if you use his own computers. Hence, our little honeytrap operation."

"Wouldn't he be suspicious if he finds you hanging around his computers a lot?"

"That's where you come in. Your presence wasn't originally part of the plan but, now that you're here, you might as well be useful. I need you to distract him."

"Distract him? How am I supposed to do that?"

"He told me that he has always wanted a son. And he wants to have a relationship with you. Just play along then," she instructed. "I think he wants to take you fishing."

"Fishing?" He was dismayed.

"Or maybe sports."

"Sports?"

She gave him an evil grin. "Have fun with the male bonding."

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It turned out to be sports. Specifically, tennis.

"Son of a bitch!" Pyro muttered angrily when he found himself flat on his back after hitting the furry yellow ball with his face instead of his racket.

"John! Are you all right?" His stepfather looked down at him worriedly.

"I'm fine!" he snapped, forcing himself to stand up on his unsteady feet.

"Why don't we take a break?" Clayton suggested. He grumpily agreed.

"You're not really into this, are you?" the older man asked.

He suppressed an irritated sigh. "Did my complete lack of athletic coordination give it away?"

Clayton chuckled. "I'm sorry. But you could have told me the truth. Let's forget tennis then. What do you like to do?"

He actually thought about it, but he couldn't think of anything. "I don't know," he shrugged. "I'm not one for hobbies and sports, I guess."

"Well, you're young. You've got time to figure out what you want."

"Uh-huh."

"John," Clayton sounded hesitant.

"Yes, sir?"

"May I speak frankly?"

_Shit, _he thought. "Sure, go ahead," he said out loud.

"I know that you don't really like this situation. I know that you and your Mom have had a hard time just keeping it all together after your dad left. And I know that an experience like that makes it hard for you to trust people."

Pyro frowned as he listened. What drama had Mystique been feeding this guy about them?

"But I want you to know," Clayton continued, "that you can trust me. You can trust Patricia. I'm not promising a perfect little home and a perfect little family here, but I do promise that we will all try very hard to make this work. I want this to work. I want us to be a family, John. Can you promise me that you will also try?"

It took him a while to find his voice. "Uh, yeah. Yeah. I promise."

"Good." Clayton smiled. They were quiet for several minutes, then he said, "How about fishing?"

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It was Patricia's birthday. Her father had offered to throw a party for her and her friends but she had refused. "How about a nice family dinner instead?" she had asked, and Clayton had agreed.

"There you go." Mystique finished fixing Pyro's tie and smiled at him approvingly. "Very handsome."

"Everyone ready?" Clayton tapped his watch. "We have the reservation at eight."

They all piled into the car; Mystique and Clayton in front, Patricia and Pyro in the back. While the newlyweds bickered good-naturedly about Clayton's driving skills, an uneasy silence reigned between the two young people.

"How are you?" Patricia asked hesitantly.

"Fine," he replied.

"Evan," she whispered the name with more than a little fear, "Evan called me up a few days ago. To apologize. I hung up on him."

Pyro wondered why she was telling him this.

"Do you think he'll tell the police that you beat him up?"

He shook his head. "No, he won't. Not if he knows what's good for him."

She nodded. She didn't speak again until they arrived at the restaurant.

They were ushered to their table. Patricia was given the honor of ordering what they would eat since it was her birthday. She tried to insist that they should each make a choice but both her father and Mystique overruled her. Looking at them laughing and talking, Pyro thought that no one would ever have guessed that he and Mystique were outsiders here.

The building was suddenly rocked by an explosion. The kitchen doors burst open and workers started running for their lives.

"Fire!" The alarm was picked up by a dozen voices. "Fire!"

There was an immediate panic and people rushed toward the exit doors.

"John!" Clayton shouted. "Help me get your mother and Patricia out of here!"

"Something's leaking gas!" he shouted back. The smell was almost overpowering. There was another explosion, and the gas ignited. The restaurant had quickly become an inferno.

"Fuck this!" Pyro cursed.

"What are you doing?" Mystique screamed at him when he started to walk towards the fire.

"Look!" someone else screamed.

The frightened mob then forgot about fleeing when they saw Pyro hold out his hands as if reaching for the flames. Using his power, he controlled the fire, tamed it to his will, put it out.

"He's one of those mutants!"

Slowly, Pyro turned to face the crowd.

"Mutant!"

"John?" Clayton looked shocked at this revelation.

"Clayton! Clayton, I swear I didn't know!" Mystique told him, sounding almost panicky.

A plate flew through the air and missed Pyro's head by a few inches. It crashed to the floor and shattered.

Suddenly, Clayton was furious. "Who did that?" he shouted at the mass of people huddled by the doors. "Who tried to hurt him?"

"He's a stinking mutant!" An elderly man sneered. "He probably caused the fire himself so he could play hero!"

Clayton grabbed him by his jacket. "You, sir, will apologize! Apologize to my son!"

"Unhand me!"

"Dad, let's just go!" Patricia begged.

They pushed their way through the muttering crowd. The drive back to the house was tense and silent.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Clayton asked once they were home.

Pyro didn't say anything.

"Jesus, John. Why would you keep something like this from us?"

"And why should I tell you?" he retorted bitterly. "So you could beat me up, curse me, throw me out of the house? Treat me like a fucking freak?"

"John, no." Clayton looked horrified at the thought. "It's okay." He moved to hug Pyro. "It's okay."

Pyro pushed him away. "Leave me alone! You're not my father!"

"John, wait!" He pushed Mystique away, too, and ran to his room.

"Fuck!" He punched the walls, threw books and a lamp. "Fuck!" He suddenly felt like crying, but he wasn't sure why. He took out the lighter he still carried with him. It took a few flicks before he could coax a flame out of it. He held the fire in his hand and felt the warmth.

He hated it all of a sudden. It was deceiving, the fire. It pulled you in with its promise of warmth and comfort, then it burned you and destroyed you.

"John?" Patricia came into his room.

He closed his hand around the flame and extinguished it. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to thank you," she said, "for saving us. Saving me twice, in this case."

He looked at her darkly. "Don't get used to it."

She regarded him with sadness. "You don't have to be so angry all the time," she told him.

"I'll take that into consideration."

She saw that he couldn't reach him, not in his present mood, so, with a soft goodnight, she left.

And he was alone again.

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A hard slap on the face roused him to wakefulness. When he opened his eyes, he saw Mystique's blue face before him.

"Get dressed," she ordered.

"What? What's going on?"

"It's done. We're leaving."

While she tapped her foot impatiently, Pyro put on his clothes. He took out the igniters from their hiding place and strapped them to his wrists.

"What about Clayton and Patricia?" he asked.

"They won't be a problem."

He stopped. "What do you mean they won't be a problem?"

Mystique just looked at him like he was stupid for even bothering to ask the question.

He backed away from her slowly, his heart suddenly pounding very loudly in his ears.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "Get back here!"

Almost blindly, he made his way to Patricia's room. The door was unlocked. He pushed it open and stepped inside.

"Patricia?" He said her name very softly. He didn't want to wake her up in case she was sleeping.

She was in her bed. Her pillow was red with blood.

He went to find Clayton. He saw that the man had also been murdered, his throat slit just like his daughter's. It was an assassin's work. Mystique's work. She had killed them in their sleep.

"Can we go now?" she asked as she stood looking at him from the doorway.

"You never said anything about killing them!" His tone was almost accusing.

"Did I really have to?" she retorted. "What did you think? We'd keep in touch? Send Christmas cards every year?"

"They didn't deserve to die this way!" He felt sick. He had certainly seen dead bodies before, some he had killed himself, but this was different. These were people he knew. This was a man who had called him son.

"You'll get used to it," was all she said. "Eventually."

A few minutes later, he followed Mystique out of the room.

Pyro stared at the house he had pretended was home for such a short while. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to destroy it.

"Go on." Mystique understood the look on his face perfectly.

He held out his hand and the igniter switched on.

Then there was fire.

And then there was darkness.

The End


End file.
